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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831218">Pride Parade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettysailorsoldier/pseuds/prettysailorsoldier'>prettysailorsoldier</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Johnlock Drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, Drabble Collection, First Meetings, Gay Pride, M/M, Pride, Unilock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettysailorsoldier/pseuds/prettysailorsoldier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Johnlock Drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>153</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pride Parade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was raining, because of course it was, the water thundering down so forcefully Sherlock was soaked almost to his waist in spite of the umbrella Irene was hogging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooo, look!” she exclaimed, pointing at the approaching float, the structure bouncing dangerously with too many people dancing to some blaring pop song. “They’re throwing beads!” She thrust the umbrella into his hand, throwing her arms in the air and screaming with the crowd as she leaned over the railing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock turned his poor ears away with a grimace. “Can’t you lift up your shirt like everyone else?” he grumbled when she pulled back, beaming with victory, a strand of rainbow beads dangling from her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Mardi Gras,” she replied, draping the necklace between her hands, “and I think someone needs a healthy dose of pride spirit!” She stretched up, tugging the iridescent beads over his head in a single swipe and grinning back at his glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When is this over again?” he asked, looking back at the rolling parade before Irene’s dramatic huff demanded his full and immediate attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, Sherlock, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>pride</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” She spun in the small circle the crowd afforded her, waving her hands at the festivities. “Only comes but once a year. Like a big gay Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock snorted, a regrettable action, as Irene seemed to interpret it as encouragement, looping an arm through the one that was trapped holding the umbrella.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, now that you’re gay-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was always gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that you’re out,” she amended, “I finally have someone to go with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock lifted his brows, tucking his neck to meet her eyes as she pressed a cheek to his shoulder. “You went with half of uni last year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s different.” She rolled her eyes, releasing him to grab onto the railing as another float approached. “None of them were my friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock blinked at the back of her head, startled by the confession, but the next wave of music drowned out his ability to think, and he snarled, opening his mouth to bemoan the intrusion when instead his jaw fell slack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The float was average—at least by pride standards—covered in rainbow flags and sparkling sequins, the name of a bar Sherlock wasn’t familiar with emblazoned on the side in a boldface font you could see from space. There were no people on the float, but, stationed around it, waving at the crowd and tossing rubber bracelets into the wind, was a selection of very attractive, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> drenched men, their brightly colored shorts and logo-emblazoned t-shirts clinging in ways Sherlock might have thought to be by design if not for how unexpected the storm was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scanned the group, just managing to reel his jaw back into place when his eyes settled on a blond man near the back, and even Irene’s glass-shattering shrieks fell silent in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was shouting a conversation with another man several feet in front of him, laughing at the response and blindly tossing bracelets into the crowd, his unfortunate loss at being given the white shirt most certainly Sherlock’s gain, the fabric turned transparent as it clung to shifting planes of muscle, Sherlock’s heart near giving out when his slow scan reached the chiseled abdomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WOOOO!!” Irene screamed in his ear, quite literally yanking him out of his trance as she grabbed his hand, waving it high in the air and sending the umbrella bouncing to the ground between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irene!?” He ducked his head against the onslaught of rain, trying in vain to wriggle free from her iron grip, but she continued bouncing his arm in the air, his eyes glancing back without permission and landing squarely on the stranger’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue. Naturally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man grinned, chest seeming to twitch with an almost laugh, and jogged the short distance up to their spot against the railing, Sherlock’s cheeks reddening with every closing inch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems a little extreme,” he said, bobbing his blond head at the umbrella at their feet, “for a bracelet.” He lifted his eyes to Sherlock, who was, for once, glad to have Irene intervene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it got your attention!” she chirped, leaning across him, and the blond chuckled, dropping his head and pulling two of the bright pink bracelets from the bag in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That it did.” He handed one to Irene, hovering Sherlock’s out in front of his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock blinked at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s mouth twitched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, thank you,” Sherlock muttered, eyes dropping to the pavement as he internally berated himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Really!?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond laughed. “Don’t thank me yet,” he quipped, pointing down at the bracelet as Sherlock tugged it over his wrist. “You get a free drink at the bar this weekend with one of those. You should come by later. Dry off.” He glanced at Irene, including her in the invitation before his gaze returned to Sherlock. “I pull a mean pint,” he added with a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A laugh that sounded more like a hiccup escaping from Sherlock’s throat, but a shout cut them off before he could break any speed records in making a fool of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John!” the man from earlier called, curling an arm in beckoning when the blond turned, the parade having nearly moved on without him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, duty calls!” Apparently-John said, grinning between them. “I’ll see ya later, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t glance at Irene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er...yeah,” Sherlock heard himself say. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John beamed, and then spun away, flicking a quick wave over his shoulder before rejoining his friend with a short exchange of swats and jeers Sherlock could make an educated guess at the topic of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irene drew out an exaggerated hum, bending her knees and swiping the umbrella up from the ground to hold it aloft between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Sherlock grumbled, snatching it from her hand, a fit of pique he regretted as soon as he realized he was stuck holding it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” she drawled, shrugging a shoulder. “I’ve just been pulling teeth all day to keep you out here, and then McMuscles shows up and you wanna go </span>
  <em>
    <span>clubbing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not clubbing,” Sherlock muttered, cheeks hot as he glanced down at Irene’s knowing smirk, “and shut up,” but even he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as she laughed.</span>
</p>
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